Beauty and the Beast
by lamentomori
Summary: After Raw and finding Brock in his dressing room, Seth's complaints to The Authority don't go quite as planned, but at least he gets a free dinner out of all of this. Warnings: Slash (Brock Lesnar/Seth Rollins), Smut, Kayfabe as possible.
1. Dinner, but no Dance

_Warnings: Mild Slash (Brock Lesnar/Seth Rollins), Kayfabe as possible._

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><p>"I'm not happy!" Seth barges into the office after the Raw taping, and almost winces at the sight that greets him. He's glad that the <em>passion<em> hasn't left their marriage, but really pawing at each other should be left behind locked doors. It's not best for business to walk in on The Authority making out.

"Seth!" Stephanie looks at him coolly, not at all like a woman who not five seconds ago was happily eating her still grinning husband's face. "You're not _happy_... Why?" She sits, all prim and proper for a heartbeat, and then the calculating face of a shrewd businesswoman descends, making Seth feel more relaxed. She's far easier to deal with when she's in bitch mode.

"Heyman's pet monster is in my dressing room." Seth sneers, wiping the sweat from the back of his neck with the towel around it. "I wanna get out of here, but-"

"My client has a deal he'd like to discuss with you, Mr Rollins." For a man so substantial Paul Heyman moves like a jungle cat, all silent and cunning. There's something intrinsically untrustworthy about the man, and it sets Seth's teeth on edge.

"Deal?" Hunter finally chimes in, smirking at Heyman, and then scowling when Heyman dismisses him. There's bad blood there, old bad blood made worse by _very_ differing opinions on _He Who Must Not Be Named_. Seth has to admit that the Harry Potter fan in him likes using that title for him, and at least its far better than heaping shade on him, a man who give zero fucks about the WWE. It's clear he wishes no ill-will to Seth, so mazel tov to him in return.

"What _deal_?" Seth isn't comfortable with this, and he sure as hell isn't happy about it, but Heyman isn't a man to back down easily, so listening is the only choice anyone has.

"Well..." Heyman looks _uncomfortable_, and Seth scowls at him, wondering if it's more than indigestion that has Heyman fussing with his tie. "Brock did offer to take you out." There's something awkward around Heyman's eyes, but there's a genial little smile on his face. A smile that no sane or sensible man would trust.

"Go get your beast outta Mr Rollins room." Stephanie isn't a man though, she's a woman, and she's usually ten steps ahead of everyone else, apart from Heyman, but that's because he's played the same games a million times before. He's so far beyond what's considered intellectual in the WWE that its laughable really. Seth might not _like_ Heyman, but he can respect the man, can respect what he's done for himself, and for the business, because at the end of the day, it's all about what's best for business. Heyman is a man that knows what's best for business, behind the bluster and the hyperbole, Heyman _knows_ that what's best for business is Seth. "Then we'll talk." Stephanie smirks, and Heyman dips his head at her, leaving the little office. "Seth..." She pulls the kindly mother act quickly and well. It's _almost_ easy to forget how vicious and spiteful this woman can be when she's smiling so sweetly at you, but that's the point. Stephanie is a sharp and calculated woman, but she has to be. Wrestling, _Sports Entertainment_, is a male dominated arena, being a woman is at once her biggest asset and her greatest weakness. "You run along, go get changed, we'll talk to Paul." She smiles again. Hunter fidgets slightly beside her, looking uncomfortable, and like he wants to run off and play with his friends. This Raw Reunion was clearly an excuse to have his BFF over for shits and giggles, but being COO doesn't leave too much time to play.

"Yeah, go on, get." His hand rests on Stephanie's shoulder, and Seth nods at them, leaving the room, heading back to his dressing room, J and J Security flanking him. There are times he can almost picture them as his _brothers_, times when he'll start saying something that he knows would made Roman laugh, or Dean pause in his manic twitching and pay attention, only to remember the sound of breaking bonds. Steel chairs against muscled backs, a year of allegiance washed away in a single action. He didn't sell out, he bought in. He didn't betray them; he left them to their own devices. He made The Shield, he broke The Shield, it was his perogative. It doesn't stop him from half-running past where he knows Ambrose likes to hide out, twitching and muttering darkly to himself. It doesn't stop him checking the crowd, dreading Reigns ploughing his way through it. It doesn't stop him from looking over _both_ shoulders just in case.

His locker room is thankfully empty, and he showers without too much concern. He's puzzling over what Heyman's deal could be, puzzling over what the hell Lesnar could want, puzzling over which shirt to wear, a t-shirt or a nice button-down. _Brock did offer to take you out_. Heyman is a cryptic man, and there's a tiny part of Seth that knows Brock isn't. Take him out means destroy him before the Rumble; it has to mean that, because there's no alternatives.

_" Like on a date?"_ _He Who Must Not Be Named_'s words drift through Seth's mind, and he shakes his head, clearing the thoughts, and the laughter that sounds painfully like his _brothers_' from his mind. He doesn't need brothers, he has The Authority. He pulls the t-shirt on, tossing his blazer over his shoulders, and starts fussing with his cell.

"You might wanna put on something _nicer_." Stephanie doesn't bother knocking, and Seth glances up from his phone to look at her.

"What?" He snaps, turning his attention back to his cell, clicking on a few more keys, sending a message off.

"You heard. Put on something nicer. You're going out to dinner, look _pretty_." She laughs, and Seth stares at her for a couple of seconds before rooting through his bag, producing the button-down shirt to wear under his blazer rather than the t-shirt he's wearing, changing quickly.

"Happy now?" He mutters, once he's shrugged his blazer back on. Stephanie eyes him critically, like a mother surveying her daughter before going out on a date. She suddenly produces a brush from her purse, and indicates that Seth should turn around. She brushes his hair with the kind of brutal efficiency he's not experienced since he was a child, securing his hair in a low tail.

"There..." She sounds satisfied, and Seth scowls at her, feeling terribly like a child in her presence. "Oh don't pout. You're getting free food, and a good deal out of it. Smile, there's a good puppy." She laughs, and Seth grimaces what might pass for a smile. "Work on that." She squishes his cheeks, and he can _feel_ a pout on his lips.

"We all set?" Hunter pokes his head around the door, and Stephanie nods, taking Seth's bags from him, handing them to her smirking husband. "Have fun." Hunter laughs, and Seth wants very little more than to demand to know what's going on, but it's clear that The Authority has no intentions of sharing their little plans with him.

"This way, Mr Rollins." Jamie and Joey are waiting for him, looking as much the same as ever. They lead him out to a waiting car. Jamie drives, Joey riding shotgun, his attention on his cell phone.

"Where are we going?" Seth's lazily trying to read who Joey's texting, a _tiny_ little part of him hoping it's _He Must Not Be Named_, if only because it inspires a little hope that they'll get to finish their feud, that Dean will be able to hear that name without twitching about with his fists clenched, and teeth grit. Not that Dean's sanity and stability are Seth's concern, but a stable, _sane_ Ambrose is best for business, even if he's in the mid-card for now, it's not going to stay that way forever. You can't keep Dean Ambrose down for too long, Seth _knows_ that.

"You're going to dinner." Joey doesn't look up from his cell, and Seth flops back with a sigh. He likes these guys well enough, but they're in The Authority's pocket, not his. They're not going to give him anything if they've not been sanctioned to by The Authority.

The restaurant is nice, completely empty save the waiter, and the vague shadows of Heyman, Joey and Jamie somewhere near the entrance. Seth has _no_ idea what the fuck he'd been expecting, but for Lesnar to be sitting, fussing with cutlery, waiting for him, isn't it. Lesnar stands when Seth approaches, and pulls out his chair, pushing it _carefully_ closer to the table once Seth's sat down. He takes his own seat, and looks _uncomfortable_. The waiter hands them both menus then wanders off, looking just as uncomfortable as Brock.

"_So..._" Seth starts, and Brock's pale eyes flicker up to him, and then back down to the menu in his hands. "_Right_." Seth gives up at the first hurdle. Small talk isn't for Brock, _talking_ isn't for Brock in general and he can only hope that eating in a vaguely civilised manner is for him, because Seth is hungry, but in no mood to watch a _beast_ fed.

"May I take your order, sir?" The waiter approaches cautiously, eying Lesnar the same way you'd eye a sleeping tiger, ever worried it'll spring awake and devour you whole.

"He'll have the same as me." Brock's high voice draws the waiter's attention, and Seth listens to Brick reel off his order. It's not bad sounding, a lot more refined than he was expecting, but to be honest Seth had been expecting Brock to order a cow, butchering and cooking both optional.

"And to drink?" The waiter asks, and at this Brock looks up at Seth.

"Oh... Uh, just a water?" He's not a big drinker, and he _really_ wants his wits about him. There's something dangerous about Lesnar, something _unrestrained_, something that even Heyman can't harness, and it's unnerving.

"I'll have the same." Brock mutters, focusing on the flowers in the centre of the table, and Seth sits there staring at the wall behind Lesnar's head, trying to work out what the hell he's doing there. "I..." Brock starts but quickly trails off, his eyebrows knit over his tiny little eyes.

"Why am I here?" Seth relaxes his posture, trying to make it look like he's comfortable with this whole bizarre situation.

"To eat." Brock offers, fidgeting in his chair. "I said I was going to take you out, baby." Seth hopes he manages to hide the twitch in his jaw at that term of endearment. It was strange on Raw, and now it's even weirder.

"I was expecting that to be a lot more violent." Seth laughs, and Brock glances away, his ears tinged with red. In his mind, Seth can hear his old teammates laughing at him, and he shakes his head, trying to clear the sound of their gleeful cackling from his ears. "I didn't think dinner was on the cards, and that's not what I meant. Heyman said there was a _deal _to be made." The waiter comes over with their first course, setting down two dainty little appetizers, and Seth watches Lesnar take up a little fork to eat with. It's almost comical, this tiny silver utensil in Lesnar's bearlike paw, but he manipulates it well enough.

"This is best eaten hot." He says, not looking up, and Seth picks up his own fork, poking at the food briefly before taking a bite. It's good, _damn_ good, and he can't stop the little moan of pleasure from escaping him. "You like it, baby?" Seth manages to not notice the second baby of the night until after he's nodded and taken another bite. The food is good, far too good to be concerned with trivial things like being called baby by Brock Lesnar.

The waiter comes and clears the plates away, refilling their water glasses, and once more Seth and Brock are left alone. There's a surprisingly comfortable silence between them. Seth had expected to feel awkward and incredibly uncomfortable with Brock, but he doesn't, he feels almost calm. Lesnar is vast, and intimidating, but he's also just a man. He's not the beast Heyman makes him out to be, he's as human as Seth, deep down at least. There's a long moment of silence, where it looks time and time again like Brock is going to say something, but he doesn't and Seth almost wants to break the silence, but it's kind of funny watching big tough Brock Lesnar, the Beast Incarnate, _fidget_.

"Your entrees." The waiter sets a plate down in front of Seth, and then one down in front of Brock, and leaves swiftly.

"Tell me about Heyman's deal." Seth can't take the silence anymore, and Brock actually looks grateful to be asked a simple, straightforward question.

"We work together." He takes a drink from his glass, and smiles almost shyly at Seth. "In the match at the Rumble... No one wants to see Cena go over, so we work together to stop him. I'll focus on him..."

"That's it? Sounds a little _straight forward_ for a plan from Heyman." It really does sound too easy, and too good to be true. There's more to the plan, more than likely more than Heyman's told Brock, because that's Heyman for you. He trusts no one. The one person who was taken _far_ into his confidence is _He Who Must Not Be Named_, and everyone knows how that worked out. Mutual distrust is the only thing you can rely on in wrestling, and Heyman distrusts everyone equally.

"It's all Paul E's told me." Brock looks consideringly at Seth, and Seth can't help but smile back at him. It's easy to engineer trust in straightforward men like Brock, and it really seems like Lesnar _wants_ to trust Seth. "You think he's not telling me everything?"

"Does he ever tell anyone everything?" Seth laughs, and Brock grins, looking strangely boyish and young.

"No... Well, _maybe_ the Runt, but that all went awry." An odd little look flits over Brock's face, something mournful, and a little sad. "He's going to get himself killed, and Paul'll be devastated." Brock takes a mouthful of food, a wry lilt to his lips.

"You've no faith in his abilities in the octagon?" Seth smirks, and takes his first bite of food. "This is _really_ good." He smiles, and strangely, he's happy with the incredibly happy look that crosses Brock's face.

"I'm glad you like it... It's my favourite meal on the menu." He takes another bite, and Seth nods. Lesnar has good taste if nothing else. "The Runt'll be fine... Dana'll do right by him. He's a draw, and Dana knows money." Brock chuckles, and sips at his water again. "You think he's gonna get destroyed?"

"Hmm... I dunno. I'm not a UFC guy." Seth shrugs, and smiles at the little light that sparks in Brock's eyes.

"I'll tell you about it." He launches into an explanation, and Seth finds himself listening more intently than he'd expected. Brock, when he's interested, knowledgeable and passionate about something, is far more eloquent than you'd expect. He imparts information in a way that's easy to understand, not glossing over difficult parts, but rather explaining them simply without being patronising.

The waiter comes, taking their empty plates, in the middle of Brock's explanation, leaving dessert in their place, and Seth has to admit Brock has impeccable taste when it comes to food. The dessert is a perfect ending to the meal.

"So... The dirtsheets have you looking to go back to the octagon... The WWE Championship has to look pretty paltry compared to the UFC one." Seth smiles, and Brock nods consideringly.

"When this contract is up... I don't know, so I can't say what I'll do next, but the WWE will need a new Champion soon enough no matter what, baby." Brock's eyes are fixated on Seth's lips, and he makes sure to lick them slowly, daintily like a cat preening.

"I'm in this match too, you know." Seth smiles, and Brock looks up to his eyes, there's a hint of understanding there, a _hint_ that Brock gets what Seth's getting at.

"We all know no one wants to see Cena as Champ again... Time for the WWE to _buy in_?" Brock looks very pleased with himself. Seth smiles at him softly; if he's honest, it _was_ a rather witty line.

"Well... Maybe." Seth shrugs, and keeps eating his dessert. He can feel Brock staring at him, and if he's honest, it's not as unnerving as it was. Lesnar has some kind of infatuation with him, and that only plays into Seth's favour. If Lesnar weren't interested in him, he wouldn't be here having dinner. If the only reason for there to be a deal was that Heyman had calculated that being on The Authority's side was better than not being on it, there would be no need for Seth and Brock to dine together. _This_ is the main objective here. Lesnar wanted to spend time with Seth, Heyman wanted to make a deal with The Authority. This is killing two birds with one stone, and Seth thinks he's played his hand remarkably well in all of this.

"So, next week..." Brock trails off, his hand sitting on the table, palm up, waiting for Seth to rest his in it. There's no harm in having allies, he supposes, and even if it falls apart, he has the briefcase; he can cash in, and get the Championship from whoever wins. At the Rumble, Lesnar's offer to focus on Cena, suits Seth just fine. One quick Curb Stomp, and the title's his no matter who's head he's stomping on. It's very easy for Seth to make this decision. He rests his palm on top of Lesnar's with a sweetly venomous smile on his lips. Brock raises Seth's hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it, and Seth's smile loses some of its edge, softens against his will. Brock's not a great conversationalist, but he is _sweet_, and that _has_ to count for something, what he's not sure, but _something_.

"It's a date, Brock."

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><p><strong><em>littleone1389 <em>**_- That is who to blame for this! (That and me discovering that live tweeting Raw is weirdly fun... This is why I was glad Twitter was blocked in China, I knew I'd end up being ridiculously into it for a while - Damned VPN!)_

**_Reviews are always good... So you know, leave one in the box! Thankssssss!_**


	2. Some Men Bring Roses

_Warnings: Mild Slash (Brock Lesnar/Seth Rollins), Kayfabe as possible._

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><p>"He's pissed off with me, Paul." From inside his dressing room, Seth can hear Brock almost <em>whine<em>, and all it does is make Seth think _good_.

"Well... You did pin him, Brock." Heyman chuckles, and there's a loud crash. "_Brock_!" Heyman sounds distressed, and once more, all Seth can think is _good_. They double-crossed him, sure Lesnar had started on Cena, but he'd turned his attentions to Seth more than quickly enough. Betrayal is unpleasant to be on the wrong side of, not that Seth knows about the _right_ side of it. He didn't betray The Shield. He bought in, he didn't sell out, but he knows the feeling his _brothers_ had a little better now. "_Brock_! Put that down... I'll _talk_ to him, smooth this over. It'll be fine, you'll see. Mr Rollins is a reasonable man. We're _all_ reasonable men. I'll sort this out." Heyman is definitely pleading for his continued existence, and Seth glares at the door. He can't help but wonder where Jamie and Joey have scurried off to. They'd been commissioned to stand guard, but it seems as though they're not there. They'd probably scarped when they saw Brock coming, and are _playing_ in catering. There's a loud knocking on the door, and Seth's glare deepens.

"_Fix it_." Brock hisses, and the door opens, revealing a red-faced and nervous looking Heyman. Brock shoves Heyman into the room, and Seth raises an eyebrow at the rotund man. The door slams shut, and there's a thud as Brock leans against the other side of it.

"Mr Heyman. What can I do for you, you treacherous lying scumbag?" Seth's tone is mild and genial, and Heyman sighs dramatically, helping himself to a bottle of water sitting on one of the counters. "Please... Take a seat." Seth gestures to the hard chair in the corner of the room, and Heyman ignores him, opening the water bottle, draining half of the contents before he takes a seat on the other end of the couch from Seth.

"Mr Rollins, _Seth_." He smiles, and Seth _looks _at him. "We had a deal, and to be fair, Brock upheld it. He focussed on Cena."

"He fucking _pinned _me. He beat the shit out of me. He fucking broke the deal from the word _go_!" Seth snaps, and Heyman shifts his weight uncomfortably.

"There was a delay, Mr Rollins. The first blow was landed to Ce-"

"He said he wouldn't touch me!" Seth springs to his feet, and Heyman almost cowers. It's an act; Seth thinks it is at least. Heyman has dealt with some of the most volatile people in the WWE. He managed _He Who Must Not Be Named_, a man famed for his short fuse. Heyman knows how to handle tempers, especially one as mild as Seth's. "You lied to me, Heyman." Seth grabs the tie around Heyman's neck and tugs on it, raising the man up off the couch. "You fucking lied to me, and you're still lying now. Do you have allergies, Paul?" Seth asks calmly, and Heyman shakes his head. "No? Really? Because it really seems like you're allergic to the truth."

"Mr Rollins... If we can be reasonable." Heyman's fingers are scrabbling over Seth's, trying to loosen their hold on his tie. "The initial plan was changed. There wasn't time to make you _aware_ of the changes, and I assure you, _my_ _client_ had nothing to do with the changes." He stresses _my client_, and Seth lets Heyman go. He doesn't want to think about Lesnar, doesn't want to think about how he'd trusted him, and then been betrayed so easily by him.

"Get out." Seth hisses, and Heyman scrambles for the door, leaving Seth in peace to watch the Rumble.

A short while later, there's a soft knock on the door of Seth's dressing room, a knock that's so light he's almost sure he imagined it until it's repeated. He supposes its J and J Security _finally_ tearing themselves away from cell phone games long enough to remember that they're supposed to be escorting him back to the hotel. That would explain the quietness of the knocking at least, they'll be hoping he's left without them. He wrenches the door open, and stares at the man on the other side. Lesnar looks _contrite_, and is holding a can of _KILLCLIFF_, along with several protein bars.

"I got you a present, baby." He smiles awkwardly, and Seth is too shocked to think of anything to say. "Here." He holds out the _present_, and Seth somehow manages to hold it all in both hands. The ease with which Brock bearlike paws had held all of this makes the size difference between them annoyingly clear.

"What do you want, _Lesnar_?" Seth sneers Brock's surname, and wanders back over to the couch, returning to waiting for at least one of the J's to show up, and drive him back to the hotel.

"To say I'm..." Brock hovers nervously at the door, and Seth frowns at him.

"Come in, sit down. You're making me nervous hanging about at the door." He snaps, turning back to the TV that's playing the Rumble match. Luck of the draw has one of his former _brothers_ in the ring, and the crowd is _hostile_ towards him. There's a _little_ part of Seth that's pissed on Roman's behalf. The big lug has a good heart, and he's a good foot soldier, but he needs guidance. Things would be _so_ very different if Seth had decided to wait before buying in, Roman would be much better off at least.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to make you nervous." Brock's attention is caught by the TV, and he frowns at the screen. "He's going to win. It's your brother who I'll be facing." His voice is quiet, and as high-pitched as ever.

"What makes you say that?" Seth snaps at him, and Brock seems to _curl_ into himself, looking slightly _wounded_ at the harshness of Seth's tone. He almost wants to apologise for being so unpleasant, but then the anger of being pinned, of being lied to, resurfaces, and Seth grabs the can of energy drink, opening it to take a drink.

"There's a fire in his belly." Brock says plainly, his attention on Roman's image on the TV screen, and there's a _tiny_ part of Seth that wants it back on him, a _tiny _bit of Seth that feels like Brock isn't doing enough _grovelling_.

"There's not one in mine? I could have fucking _beaten _you, beaten _Cena_ and you fucking _cheated_ me." Anger surfaces easily, and Lesnar does nothing but take a deep breath, exhaling loud and slow. "Why the fuck did you lie to me?"

"Until I got here, I didn't." Brock takes another deep breath, holding it in, exhaling slowly. Its then that Seth realises he's doing some kind of anger management technique, and he's almost grateful that Brock is trying to keep _The Beast_ at bay.

"The plan changed last minute?" Seth snags a couple of the protein bars, and turns to sit sideways so he can face Brock. "Here, I'm guessing you've not eaten yet." Seth taps Brock's monstrous bicep with one of them, losing a fight with a smile when Brock takes it, and starts almost nibbling at it once the wrappers off, looking like an overgrown chipmunk.

"Paul E was all for the original plan till maybe an hour before we went on, and then it was, _whatever it takes Brock, keep the belt_." Brock closes his eyes, and leans his head back.

"Dangerous words to give a dangerous man." Seth comments mildly, and Brock laughs, a smile on his face. "I don't understand Heyman's reasons, he wouldn't give me any, and I'm guessing you didn't get an explanation either?" Brock lifts his head back up and looks at Seth.

"Paul tells me when and who to kick the shit out of, nothing more, nothing less." He smiles, and a little shiver runs down Seth's spine. Lesnar's a legitimately dangerous man, and he's guided by a monster. Everyone might think that Brock is the monster, but the truth is that it's Heyman.

"He's a fine puppet master." Seth mutters, and Brock laughs, tossing the wrapper from his protein bar in the trash. "You know... You don't have to be a puppet, Brock." Seth smiles at him, and Brock shakes his head.

"I'm not a puppet. I'm the strings Paul uses to move his marionettes." Brock smirks, and Seth sits there feeling surprised that Brock knew the word. "I'm not an idiot, baby." Brock chuckles, and Seth snorts, opening his snack, and starting to eat. He's underestimated Brock, that much is clear, but then again it might be that Heyman has been underestimating him too. It doesn't seem likely to Seth though, Heyman is too smart by half. He'd not underestimate anyone; he'd have the measure of them for sure.

"Hey... Brock?" Seth moves a little closer, his knees brushing Brock's huge thigh, making his ears turn red in embarrassment. "I'm hungry, wanna go eat?" Seth stands, and Brock looks flustered, but is nodding as he gets to his feet. "Good. So where's cheap but good around here?"

Brock had insisted on carrying Seth's bags, had insisted on holding the car door open, had insisted on driving, and now that they've eaten, he's insisting on paying. It's nice, and Seth's surprised at the chivalry, he's also more than a little confused, but he's not going to argue. Brock has a very different concept of cheap to Seth, if he wants to pay, Seth's going to let him. He was much better on this _date_, if you could call it that. They'd managed to have a real conversation; a moment where Seth had found himself laughing almost hysterically at a story about some crazy trip Heyman and Brock had been on. It had surprised Seth, but he'd found himself _relaxing_ in Brock's company. He'd had a good time, and he's genuinely sorry that it's coming to an end.

"I'll take you to your hotel." Brock says once they're back in the car. Without really thinking, Seth nods, and a smile creeps over Brock's lips. "Okay. Which one is it?" Seth tells him, and sits in the passenger's seat staring out the window. He's carefully not thinking about how _pleasant_ Brock's company has been, carefully not thinking about anything but how careful a driver Brock is, and the constant vibration of his cell phone notifications as it sits in his pants' pocket. He finally relents, and checks his cell. The first message he opens is from Dean. Occasionally, _usually_ when he's drunk, Dean will text, his messages will be either filled with hate, or filled with despair, and Seth often has to remind himself that he bought in. Dean isn't his responsibility, not any more.

_Ro won. You wanna cash in on my BROTHER_ _you'll need to go through me! - Ambrose_

"You were right." Seth says quietly, and Brock makes an _hmm_ noise, enquiring as to what he was right about. "Roman won." Seth ignores the rest of his messages, and sits feeling uncertain. He doesn't know how he feels in the least. Roman won, and Dean told him so. His not brothers are still together, still strongly united, and he's not sure how he feels. _Numb_ he thinks that the best word, but can't explain why. He thinks it might be down to the conflicting emotions he's feeling, and he needs a distraction. He reaches for his cell again, and notices several missed calls and texts from both Jamie and Joey. He'd slipped their dubious protection, and a little of him feels guilty for that. He sends off a quick message assuring them that he's fine, and on his way back to the hotel just as Brock pulls up to the front of it. He gets out of the car, once he's popped the trunk, and takes Seth's luggage out.

"Baby." He opens Seth's door, holding it for him, and closing it firmly once Seth is outside. "Lead the way."

"I'll be fine from here, Brock." Seth laughs, and Brock looks mildly affronted.

"I'm a gentleman, baby. I'm taking you all the way to your room." There's something final in Brock's words, and Seth can't begin to argue with him, not with the news that Rom-, no not _Roman_, not_ Dean_, they're _Reigns_ and _Ambrose_. They mean nothing to Seth, _nothing_. He left them behind, and he sees them as nothing but minor obstacles in his path to the WWE Heavyweight Championship, that the man he's spent the last few hours enjoying the company of holds. Seth sighs dramatically, slumping against the elevator wall, and Brock's hand is suddenly under his chin, turning Seth's face to him. "Baby? What's wrong?" Seth shakes his head, and closes his eyes. He can feel frustration building in him. He might needs to see if _He Who Must Not Be Named_ has decided to sell those frustration badges so he can notch the shit out of one.

"Nothing... It's nothing, Brock." Seth sighs once more, and Brock's face wears an expression of utter disbelief. "It's... They're still friends." He snaps, and Brock looks at him. "I left them, and I thought that would be that. I was the glue, they were like magnets repelling each other, and they're _still_ fucking together. They didn't _need_ me after all. I thought I was vital, but they're fine on their own, they don't _need _me." Seth feels damned foolish, but a little better for that rant. Brock nods slowly, and his fingers move, cupping Seth's bearded cheek.

"They need you just fine. One of them did something great, and they still told you." Brock smiles, and Seth snorts looking away. "You broke them, but they're still yours, I get that. Heyman still calls the Runt every week." Seth turns to stare at Brock, and gets a tentative smile for his gaze. "There's no harm in wanting to keep an eye on them, baby, they're yours to watch." Brock shrugs, and then seems to realise he's holding Seth's face. His ears turn almost purple, and he steps away, clearing his throat awkwardly as the elevator arrives at Seth's floor. Seth leads the way to his room, and pauses once he gets to the door. Brock, all purple ears and Seth's luggage, is standing awkwardly in front of him.

"Brock." Seth smiles, opening the room door, and taking his luggage from Brock's hands, tossing the bags inside. "This was our second date, right?" Seth smiles, and Brock's hand goes up to rub at the back of his neck. He looks even more embarrassed than he had as he nods. "Well... Second dates are definitely soon enough to have a good night kiss." Brock looks shocked by Seth's words, but doesn't fight when Seth leans up for a kiss, instead those big strong hands on are on Seth, one cradling the back of his head, the other on Seth's waist. When they break apart Brock's wearing a ridiculous, kind of _cute_ smile, and Seth can feel a blush on his cheeks. Brock's a good kisser, the _best_ kisser. He might not be the best conversationalist, but he _knows_ how to use his tongue.

"Good night, baby." Brock smiles, and starts walking away.

"Night, Brock." Seth calls down the corridor, and closes his hotel room door; thinking _good might be an understatement_.

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><p><em>Thank you to those who reviewed! <em>

**_Rebellcherry, AshJovillette, alizabethianrose, littleone1389, and Bloody-Destination_**

_I am friends with enablers... This is all I can say. Terrible, wonderful, beloved enablers!_

**_Reviews are always good... So you know, leave one in the box! Thankssssss!_**


	3. Put Out on the Third Date

_Warnings: Slash (Brock Lesnar/Seth Rollins), Kayfabe as possible._

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><p>Four Wrestlers, <em>talents <em>as they call them, and one Heyman. It's all there is for this episode of Raw. The snow is thick and terrifyingly heavy, and Seth almost wishes it were any other three wrestlers there but the ones it is. Himself, Brock, Reigns, and Ambrose. At least he's been told Ambrose is on the prowl somewhere, where exactly no one's sure, but he'd apparently started coming this way, and Seth wouldn't put actually arriving past Ambrose. The bastard is crazy, the sort of crazy that makes a decision, and sticks to that decision no matter what common sense and reason would suggest was a better one, if only because common sense and reason took one look at Ambrose and ran in the other direction.

Reigns is holed up in a room far from Seth, and for that he'd grateful. He's not in the mood to face a _stare_ from Reigns. He never says anything, but his heavy gaze always says _you're my little brother, Seth, no matter what I've got your number_. Reigns underestimated Seth, from day one he always saw him as the link in the chain that needed protecting. Seth doesn't need protection, he never has, and he never will. He's more than capable of looking after himself.

Heyman and Brock are _somewhere_. No one seems to be entirely sure _where_ they are exactly, but they _are_ there. Some brave soul snapped a picture, and Heyman tweeted, or retweeted it, one or the other Seth isn't sure, and doesn't much care. He's not bothered either way, even if there's a little part of him that'd quite like to see the WWE Champion again. There's a little part of Seth that's been dwelling on that rather glorious kiss outside his hotel room last night, but it's a little part that isn't coming to work with him. Here Seth is Mr Money in the Bank, he's the future of the WWE, he's the _now_ of the WWE, he's the next in line for the throne as it were.

"You ready for Cole, Seth?" Hunter sounds either bored or cold, it's hard to tell. Unless he's playing up for a crowd he's a pretty subdued guy, his tone and inflection are both hard to read.

"Yeah... I'm ready." He's bored of waiting to be honest. They're having a little skit at the opening then the Championship match, and then Seth and Cole will have a little _chat_. He's no doubt that Cole will ask some damn fool questions, and Seth will have to answer them as _nicely_ as he can.

"Right, sit tight till we need you then." Hunter pats him on the shoulder, and Seth resists the urge to roll his eyes. _Sit tight_. He's almost sick of being Hunter's little lap dog, but aligning himself with The Authority had been the smart thing to do. He'd bought in, he hadn't sold out, and soon enough he's going to cash in.

"_Sit tight_... Hmm... Sit tight." Heyman's voice is wheedling and slimy as it trickles into Seth's ears, and he can feel his fists balling at the sound of it. "Rather patronising for Mr Money in the Bank, wouldn't you say?" Heyman stands beside Seth in front of the screen playing the Championship match. "The Phoenix Splash was rather beautiful, Mr Rollins." It's not what's on the screen at that moment but a part of Seth puffs up in pride all the same.

"I know." He mutters, trying to work out what Heyman could possibly want. He's a hard man to guess the motives of, but that's very much the way Heyman likes it. He's a man who plays his cards _close_ to his chest, never revealing his full hand, even when he has to, with Heyman there's _always_ an ace in his sleeve. "What d'you want, Heyman?" Going for the jugular only nets Seth a laugh from Heyman, one of those mild _who me_ laughs he has, a laugh that tries to play innocent but fails miserably because the man giving it is _far_ from innocent.

"Nothing... Just watching the match... Looking for pointers for Brock." He never just says Brock's name, it's always an event with Heyman, and Seth isn't sure if it's a mark of respect or a sign that Heyman merely likes the way he says it.

"I don't think he's going to listen to match pointers from you, Heyman." Seth doesn't turn from the match, doesn't look at Heyman, even when he chuckles again.

"Maybe, maybe not, but it never hurts to have a _full_ understanding of the competition, and you _are_ competition, aren't you Seth?" Heyman's voice has a _hint_ of venom, a pinprick of cyanide in the honey of his tone.

"Anyone who steps in the ring is competition, Paul." Brock sounds bored, and Seth turns to look at him. He hadn't heard Brock approach, but Seth isn't all that surprised. Brock is rather like some great predator creeping along, bulky but silent when he wants to be.

"_Inside _the ring." Heyman shakes his head, and pats Seth's shoulder. "Can I interest you in a coffee?" Seth shakes his head. He doesn't trust Heyman to not tamper with it somehow for his own gain or mere amusement. "I'll let you know when we're on, Brock." Heyman ambles off, his attention on his cell phone, and Brock moves a little closer to Seth, the space between them barely an inch.

"He's been texting the Runt all day, wants to know how his training's going." Brock laughs, and Seth glances at him out of the corner of his eye.

"How is it going?" After a moment of indecision, Seth steps closer to Brock, their shoulders brushing. When Brock's arm wraps around him, the little part of Seth that wasn't supposed to be coming to work is _very_ happy. Brock's warm. Even in the face of the cold of this big corporate office block and not wearing much more than warm-up gear, Brock's body is a furnace.

"No idea. Paul doesn't talk about the Runt to me, doesn't talk about him to anyone... Failure's hard to accept for the prideful." Brock squeezes Seth's shoulders, and Seth snorts.

"I didn't fail." He resents the implication that he did. Nothing, _nothing_ Seth has set out to do he's failed at, apart from maybe beating _He Who Must Not Be Named _in that triple threat, but at least they looked pretty strong coming out of it, Roman looked good if nothing else. Not that it matters, not anymore, but at the time the decision to buy in hadn't been made, so it had mattered then.

"I didn't say you did." Brock comments mildly, and Seth snorts again. "It's a sore spot though... Like a bad tooth, and it needs pulled." Brock's eyes are narrowed, and a smirk suddenly creeps over his face. "You do that damn well, baby." The Phoenix Splash, Seth knows without looking, he knows because he _knows _he did it well, it was _perfectly executed_.

"How are you at dentistry?" Seth laughs, and Brock glances down at him. There's a part of Seth that'd expected confusion to be on Brock's face. He expected to have to explain the joke, but instead there's a lazy, _indulgent_ smile.

"I guess you'll find out come Mania." Brock turns to Seth, and his hands frame his face, drawing him in for a kiss. If it were possible to win a belt for kissing, Seth thinks that Brock would be in contendership. His hands are making a horrible mess of Seth's hair, he knows it, but the way those huge paws feel cradling his head, the way Brock's tongue glides in his mouth, the way his lips move over Seth's, it all conspires to make him give approximately zero fucks about his hair. The match on the TV finishes, and show cuts to commercial before Brock breaks the kiss. "Have fun out there, baby." Brock lets Seth go, and Seth catches a glimpse of his reflection in a window. His hair's a mess, but there's not much he can do about it now.

After his interview spot, there's that little shit part of Seth that has him knocking over the chair before Brock can sit in it, the little shit part of him that smirks and almost sashays out of the room feeling Brock's eyes on him the whole time.

In the corridor Reigns is pacing, his eyes focused on the ground in front of him. Seth considers saying something, considers congratulating him, but there's no point. There's nothing Seth could say that Reigns would want to hear. He breezes past Reigns, and is almost at the room he's claimed as his own when Reigns calls out.

"Seth!" He turns, not sure what he should expect, but the hint of pride on Roman's face wasn't it. "You did good in that match... Match of the night, little brother." Seth prickles at the term of endearment, and enters his room, resisting the urge to slam the door, because that would be too petulant and childish. The Rumble match plays after Brock's interview, and Seth pays more attention this time, watching it more carefully, trying to guess who his next target might be. He's not sure he's overly comfortable targeting Brock, and as if summoned by the thought, there's a soft knock on the room door.

"It's open." Seth _knows_ that'll be Brock, he can feel it in his bones, and he's not surprised when a can of _KILLCLIFF_ and _Quest_ bars are handed to him. "Thanks." Brock nods, nibbling on a bar, his attention on the TV. Seth cradles the can for a few seconds, and then moves over to sit beside Brock. He's strangely grateful when a huge arm wraps around him and pulls him close.

"It's a sore spot." Brock mutters, and Seth doesn't say anything. There's nothing much to say really. Brock's right, and he's wrong. Seth's relationship with the former Shield members isn't anything like Heyman and _He Who Must Not Be Named_'s relationship; there was no mentoring, no guiding, at least not overtly. Seth and Dean guided Roman, and in turn he offered the advice of his family, it was a mutual thing, but it's over with, it's the past, and Seth's moved on, _they've_ moved on. When Roman's interview is on, Brock distracts him with a kiss, and Seth's grateful. He's not sure why, but there's something almost offensive about listening to Roman talking, about him making light of something Seth _knows_ more than likely hurt him. He'd loved when the crowd had gotten behind The Shield, had _adored_ it. It was Dean who'd gotten twitchier, Dean who'd been uncomfortable with cheers rather than jeers, but he'd adapted, and now cheers follow him like his fleas. It's an old shared joke, the reason Dean's so twitchy is that he's constantly being bitten by fleas, and Seth's not sure why he'd remembered that joke just then.

The Bryan interview was boring junk, and Seth didn't much care what that Troll had to say, Brock seemed equally bored, his hands trailing down Seth's arm, pulling him to straddle Brock's impressive thighs. Their kisses, and Brock's hands, grow bolder quickly, till Seth's panting, and Brock's all but dry fingering him. When Renee mentions Brock's name, Seth slips from his lap and stands.

"They'll want you next." Seth mutters, and Brock stands, kissing Seth once more.

"I want you now... But paycheques before pleasure, right?" He chuckles, and Seth nods. It's something Heyman should learn from his _Beast_ Seth thinks to himself. He trails along behind Brock to one of the TVs set up in a corridor outside the interview room, and Brock leaves him with a smile. Not long after a slightly flustered Cole emerges, and Seth spares him nothing more than a withering glare.

Heyman sells the Mania match as if he belonged in the Wild West selling snake oil. Every word filled Seth with anticipation, but as Reigns and Brock stare each other down, there's a part of Seth that's torn. He's not Reigns' brother, never was, but there's that part of him that's still invested, like Heyman is still invested in _He Who Must Not Be Named_, not matter what there's always going to be part of Seth invested in Reigns, Ambrose too.

"Ma brotha did pretty good, huh Seth?" Ambrose's sneering voice has Seth closing his eyes and willing him gone. He's not in the right frame of mind for Ambrose right now, but that's usually when Dean, _Ambrose_, likes to show up. "You think he's gonna win? Cause I think he's gonna win. I _believe_ in ma brotha." Ambrose smells like cheap whisky and cheaper cigarettes as he stands beside Seth, on his head is a woolly hat Seth's sure looks familiar, but he thinks the head he'd seen it on last was smaller, prettier, and more female. "A nice girl gave me her hat and everything... Said I'd catch my death of cold." There's a smile on Dean's, no _Ambrose's_ lips, and Seth snorts at him saying nothing. Ambrose stays where he is, half-twitching, half-dancing, and Seth continues to ignore him.

"Huh, so there's my hat." The soft voice of Renee comes from behind Seth, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ambrose turn to her.

"All safe and sound." He laughs, and Seth ignores them, ignores the familiar sound of Dean's charm and wit working its magic on a pretty girl.

"Let's get out of here, brother." Seth almost turns to Roman, almost points out that Dean is too busy flirting to notice them, but Reigns walks right past, and Seth is reminded once more that they're Reigns and Ambrose, not Roman and Dean anymore. He bought in, and left them behind. "So, baby girl, you wanna come eat dinner with me, and my flea-ridden brother?" Seth leaves at that. He can't stand listening to Renee being charmed, can't stand being able to picture the slightly manic, but thoroughly enticing smile on Ambrose's face, and the smouldering reassurance that emanates from Reigns.

"Let's go, baby." Brock's hand rests on Seth's shoulder, and Seth stares at him.

"Brock?" There's a look of brief but complete confusion on Brock's face at Seth saying his name, but it fades quickly, his hands cupping Seth's face, and he kisses him softly.

"I'm taking you back to my hotel." Brock says nothing more, doesn't let Seth argue with him, not that Seth wants to, what he wants is what Brock wants, what he wants is to go back to that hotel, and to forget about his former allies, to forget about buying in, to forget about everything but Brock.

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><p><em>Thank you to those who reviewed!<em>

**_Moiself, AshJovillette, Theshieldslaves, alizabethianrose, littleone1389, Rebellcherry, PunkShieldGirl, Lovergyul, technerd89 and LZlola._**

_I'd say there's one more chapter of this, just to give you all a head up. :)_

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	4. Not A One Night Stand

_Warnings: Slash (Brock Lesnar/Seth Rollins), Smut, Kayfabe as possible._

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><p>Brock is quiet the whole ride back to his hotel, his concentration on the road, and Seth's almost resentful for the silence. He wants something to take his mind off the thoughts of the former Shield members. He wants to stop brooding. It's like Brock said, the whole thing is a bad tooth, and it needs pulled, but there's a part of Seth that's worried about pulling that tooth, worried that he might need it back one day. Careers in the WWE are made and built with allegiances, making and breaking them, and there's a never say never air about the whole place. There might come a day when he needs Ambrose and Reigns again. It might never happen, but then again it might. He doesn't know either way, and if there's one thing Seth hates it's not knowing. He's the Architect, he's the planner, the schemer, he's Heyman. It's a strange moment to realise how much like the rotund manipulator he is, but there's similarities there. The reason Heyman's still interested in <em>He Who Must Not Be Named<em> is that he left, he went without telling anyone why, just not there anymore, and it _has_ to be galling to Heyman. Heyman's a man who has plans for _everything_, and they had to have been damaged by that sudden gaping absence. Seth's plans had once been focussed on The Shield, but once he bought in, those plans changed, and now there's still a little part of him that wants to include provisions for the other two, a little part of him that watches how they're doing, and makes plans for them.

"Baby... We're here." Brock's voice jars him from his thoughts, and Seth leans over to him pecking him on the nose.

"You're far smarter than _anyone_ realises, aren't you Mr Lesnar?" Seth smirks, and Brock shakes his head, a smirk on his face.

"Don't know what you mean, baby." He chuckles, and gets out of the car, coming over to open Seth's door for him. "All I did was drive." His smirk fades into a smile, and Seth rolls his eyes, taking the offered hand to help him out of the car.

"You let me brood in peace." Seth squeezes Brock's hand before letting it go.

"You do a spot of dentistry yourself?" Brock sounds incredibly amused, and Seth snorts, moving to grab the luggage, but utterly unsurprised when Brock takes all of it up easily.

"You know I have hands." Seth thinks that came out far more flirtatious and coy than he'd expected, and the slight reddening of Brock's ears confirms either that, or it confirms that Brock isn't immune to the cold, but Seth would rather assume it was his tone that flustered Brock and not the weather.

"Yeah, and mine are bigger." Brock mumbles, moving to stand behind Seth." Go on, inside... You'll freeze out here, baby." Brock's large body acts as an effective windbreak, and Seth picks his way through the snow into the hotel. At the desk, the receptionist glances at him haughtily, and then pales when she spots Brock, her attention returning to the computer screen in front of her quickly. Seth doesn't bother holding back the laugh he has for the poor freaked out woman, but he supposes he can't blame her. There's something about Brock that makes it look like it'd be smart to pretend that he's not there, smart to look the other way till he's gone, because Brock is an intimidating looking man.

"So... Where's your room?" Seth gets in the elevator, and Brock presses a button, his body blocking the lit-up number from Seth's view.

"Doesn't much matter, does it?" He chuckles, and Seth shrugs. It doesn't really, a room's a room, and it's pretty clear what they're going there for. This is it, Seth's putting out, taking the distraction he's not entirely sure he needs anymore. There's something settled in his mind about his former allies, a kind of clarity he's been struggling for since the day he brought those chairs down on their backs. The Shield is dead and buried, but there's those links, those bonds that has Reigns still thinking of him as his _little brother_, still has Ambrose drunk dialling him at three am, because there was a bond between them. Some bonds are embedded in, whether you want them or not, some bonds don't break, not fully. They get strained, they get twisted, but eventually, there'll come a time when Seth needs them, and there will come a time when they need Seth. It's best to accept that and move on.

"I guess not." It takes a long time for them to get to Brock's room, and when the elevator finally pings, Seth is convinced they're either at the penthouse, or at least very close to it. The room turns out to be a rather beautiful suite, and Seth stands feeling more than a little impressed. "This is _nice_, Brock." Seth turns to glances at Brock, but he doesn't seem interested in the room, instead he's busying himself with setting their luggage down. Seth wanders over to the window, and draws the curtains back, and is greeted by a wall of swirling white. "Pretty isn't it?" He calls over his shoulder, seeing Brock's reflection in the glass.

"It's snow." Brock shrugs again, and he walks closer, his hands resting on Seth's waist, his back curved so that he can press nipping kisses to Seth's throat. "The snow's nothing but cold and white... No good for anything but making what's alive more beautiful." Seth tries to stomp the shiver that runs through him down, but it's futile.

"Well... I'm alive." Seth steps away from Brock, and re-draws the curtains, turning to watch Brock cross the room, going back to his luggage and pull something free.

"That you are, baby..." Brock smirks, and Seth raises an eyebrow at him. "Show me what you like." Brock tosses Seth a bottle of lube, and Seth catches it easily, staring at him. "You're so..."

"_Little_?" Seth chuckles, and Brock nods absently, settling on the bed once he's stripped off his clothes. Seth glances down at Brock's cock, and his mouth feels a little dry. By comparison, Seth _is_ little. Slow and steady is going to have to be the way forward with this, and giving Brock a little show and tell might be a good idea. "Little." Seth repeats more firmly, and he pulls his shirt over his head, then makes quick work of the rest of his clothes.

"Next time, baby... _If _you want there to be a next time... Do that a little slower, hmm?" Brock licks his palm, and starts playing with his cock, his eyes riveted to Seth's body, running over the length of his naked form. "I don't think you're gonna appreciate being called _pretty_... But handsome doesn't quite fit you." Brock smirks, his hand rolling his heavy looking balls.

"I'll settle for stunning... Or gorgeous, but breath-taking works too." Seth laughs, and positions himself on the end of the bed, resting on all fours, his ass aimed at Brock.

"Alright, alright, you're beautiful... At least you're _aware_ of it... Ain't nothing worse than trying to give a compliment to someone who's just gonna down play the truth. I'm glad you're receptive to compliments." Brock is all but laughing at Seth, and there's a little part of him that's _proud_ of that. It's not the normal malicious laugh Brock gives, not when he's with Seth, it's a real genuinely amused laugh, and Seth can't deny the pride he feels in that.

"You'll find I'm very receptive." Seth moans as he breaches his asshole with one finger, hearing Brock give a little grunt at the sight of it. Seth slowly fucks himself with that one finger, slowly gets his body used to an intrusion before he eases a second inside of him. "Hey... C'mere." Seth pulls his fingers from himself, and sits so that he's facing Brock. "Gimme your hand." Brock looks confused, and holds a hand out to Seth, staring at him as Seth measures his own hand up against it. Two of Seth's fingers are about as wide as one of Brock's. Seth chances a quick glance down at Brock's cock, and grabs the lube bottle. He coats his palm, and takes Brock's cock in his hand; the widest part of Brock's cock takes all of Seth's hand to go around it, and Seth's hands are not that small.

"We don't have to-"

"Oh, no... I've decided." Seth grins at the look of concern that flashes over Brock's face. "I'm taking this fat cock, _all _of this fat cock." Seth leans down and places a delicate kiss on the head of Brock's dick. The skin beneath Seth's lips is silky soft, and the taste of the steadily weeping pre-come is as oddly pleasant as it is copious. At least Brock's cock knows it's a monster that needs to help lube its way. "I'm gonna take all of you, you little Beast." Seth mutters to Brock's dick as he leans up, and then meets Brock's eye. Brock blinks at him slowly before dissolving into laughter. "What? _What_?" Seth scowls, and gently whacks Brock's heaving chest.

"You're talking to my dick, baby... You're surprisingly fucking weird." Brock seems infinitely amused with Seth, and all Seth can bring himself to do is pull an affronted face, and sniff haughtily.

"Well, he and I are about to be very intimate, it seemed only polite to talk with him." Seth grins, and Brock tries to school his face into something more serious, or at least less overly amused.

"You're a proper gentleman, baby." Brock nods, and takes up the lube bottle, before catching Seth's ankle, and pulling him to lie so that his ass is resting on Brock's chest. The feeling of Brock's breath washing over Seth's ass is far more arousing than Seth had expected. In the silence of the room, the sound of the lube opening is deafening. The feeling of the cool fluid trickling down his ass is horribly teasing, but Seth's grateful for it when Brock's finger penetrates him, fucking him slowly and thoroughly, moving restlessly from side to side slightly stretching his hole. "Add one of yours." Brock's voice drifts to Seth's ears, he'd almost been _lost_ to the feeling of Brock's finger playing with his ass, coupled with the warm breath bathing his balls, and the occasional strokes Brock had been giving his hardening cock. Seth offers one finger to Brock, and it's coated thoroughly in lube before Seth slides it inside of himself, alongside Brock's finger. They go slowly, working together, gently teasing Seth open, working up to two fingers each, and by that time Seth's panting, desperate to be _fucked_.

"C'mon... I'm ready, and if I'm not, all that's going to happen is I'm gonna come like this." Seth whines, he _knows_ he whines, but he can't help it. He wants this _so _badly, and all Brock does is laugh.

"Alright, baby..." He grabs Seth's wrist and pulls lightly, forcing Seth to rearrange himself quickly so that he's straddling Brock's body. "You're in charge. I'll lie here till you're ready." There's something so gentle, so fearfully gentle on Brock's face, that Seth almost changes his mind. Brock's _terrified _of hurting him, but Seth _knows_ that's not going to happen. When they're alone, when it's just him and Brock, there's nothing to fear from him. It's only in the ring that Brock's a threat to Seth's personal safety, of that he's certain. There are sounds from behind Seth, the sounds of Brock coating his cock in more lube, by the sounds, a _lot_ of lube, and Seth leans down to kiss him.

"I'm going _slow_." Seth mutters, lining the thick slightly spongy head of Brock's cock up with his hole, and gently rocking against it. It slides over his slick hole, and Seth takes one of Brock's hands, wrapping it around his own cock. "Hold him still for me. He's rudely refusing my kind invitation inside." Brock laughs at Seth again, and Seth starts laughing, but it's devoured by a sharp gasp. The initial penetration of Seth's body robs him of everything from breath to thoughts; all that's left is the _burn_ of where Brock is inside of him. He grits his teeth, and slides down a little more, then rises up, working slowly. Seth has the feeling that sex with Brock will _always_ have to start slowly, but that's okay because the look on Brock's face says that fast would make concern override desire. It's a fine line, Seth can see that, and he wants Brock firmly on the desire side of the line, because Seth's planning on building a house there, maybe moving in permanently, because this _feels_ incredible. Riding Brock makes him feel strangely powerful, he's impaled, filled almost to bursting with cock, but on top he has all the power. Brock's hands rest on Seth's hips, not pulling him down or pushing him up, just resting there, solid and reassuring. Seth's no doubts that if Brock wanted to, he could use Seth as nothing more than a masturbatory aide, if Brock decided to he could fuck Seth like a life-size fleshlight, but Brock seems more than content to let Seth do all the work, his eyes trained on Seth's face, watching him carefully.

"Slow down." One of Brock's hands moves, and catches the tie in Seth's hair. "Slow down, baby... You'll be sore in the morning if you don't." Brock's voice is soft, far softer than Seth thinks it should be, and he smirks at him, puffing at his hair, when Brock pulls the tie out, and the long strands almost instantly flop in Seth's face.

"Maybe I wanna be sore in the morning, Brock." Seth moves his hands from where they'd been braced on Brock's chest to tuck his hair behind his ears, and then runs them slowly down his body, licking his lips as he skims over his chest, down his stomach and further, one hand taking hold of his cock, the other trailing back up again. "Maybe I wanna feel it all week... Let's face it, you're not sticking around... This is what, two, three appearances? You'll be gone again tomorrow." Seth groans as Brock's hips buck up into him, driving Brock's formidable cock up into him deeper than before.

"I'll be gone when my flight leaves." Brock doesn't elaborate on the when beyond that, and Seth glares down at him. "But you'll still be here. You'll still be performing." With that, Brock twists their positions, forcing Seth to his back, leaving Brock looming over him. "And I don't want you to be sore." Seth opens his mouth to make a comment, but Brock _moves_, withdraws then _slowly_ eases his way back in, and Seth's brain is robbed of its words, left instead with nothing more than a low pleasure filled groan.

"Remind me to give you my number before you go." Seth manages to grind out once he's gotten as used to dealing with the size of Brock's cock in this new position, and the pleasure it's capable of giving him in it. Seth's not been fucked too many times, and it's always been something of a chore, something that's left him wondering why women put up with it, but with Brock it's different. Brock is a man who seems _more_ than capable of using his cock to bring pleasure to his partner, it rubs over Seth's prostate with unerring regularity, sending shivering sparks of pleasure though Seth's body.

"You want me to stroke you, baby?" Brock murmurs in Seth's ear, and Seth shakes his head, wrapping himself around Brock tightly.

"Hold me closer." Seth _thinks_ it sounds needy, but he's not going to lie to himself, he _is_ needy. He can see himself becoming too lost too quickly in the feeling of Brock fucking him, and it almost unnerves Seth. He's used to being in control, calmly, coolly in control, but with Brock, he's decidedly not in control, and it's different, not unpleasant, but different.

"I got you, baby." Brock's hands squirm under Seth's shoulder blades, cradling him close to Brock's massive chest. Seth's head falls back, his cock trapped between them, being rubbed impossibly well by the motions over their bodies. It shouldn't but the friction over his prostate, the pressure from their rutting, it overwhelms him, it leaves him clinging to Brock, his nails digging into to Brock's shoulders, his heels digging into Brock's ass. He's holding on for the ride, and loving every second, resentful for the feeling building in his gut and his balls, because he knows once he comes this will be over, and he's certain he doesn't want this to be over.

"I'm gonna come, Brock." Seth pants, but all Brock gives him is another deep, smooth thrust and a distracted _uh-huh_. When his orgasm hits, Seth is utterly unable to vocalise anything but a ragged moan, his body trembling in the feeling that overcomes him, leaving him unable to do anything but cling to Brock, and ride it out, barely aware of the sounds of Brock's low rumbling groan of completion.

"You okay?" The first thing Seth's fully aware of is Brock's hands gently touching his face, and the _emptiness_ in his ass. He's never just _blacked out_ after coming, but it feels very much like he did. He feels groggy, giggly, and sated, like waking up still drunk after a really good party. He grins up at Brock, and makes grabby hands at him, holding back a laugh at the shocked but ridiculously happy smile that graces Brock's face as he lets Seth pull him down for a kiss.

"Nope, I'm not okay at all." Seth laughs once Brock breaks the kiss, and impossible worry crosses his face.

"I didn't see any blood... But-"

"I'm _fabulous_." Seth can't keep the giggles back this time. This by far the strangest, but _best_ afterglow he's ever had, and he wants more of, it wants this again, and again, and again.

"Hmm... _Fabulous_?" There are some words that Brock Lesnar should not say, and fabulous is clearly one of them. It makes Seth giggle once more to hear that dainty word given in Brock's oddly high-pitched, but intimidating voice.

"Yes." Seth intones solemnly. "Fabulous." Seth manages to keep the straight face up getting a stony stare back from Brock. It's a contest of wills, and Brock cracks first. He moves from between Seth's spread legs, to flop on his back, laughing.

"After sex you are very strange, baby." He manages between chuckles, and Seth turn to look at him, before sticking his tongue out, and rolling onto his side, his back to Brock.

"You're big spoon." Seth doesn't add any more to that sentence, and Brock's finger runs down Seth's spine, a shiver and goose pimples trailing in its wake.

"G'night, baby." Brock mumbles, and curls himself around Seth's back, which was pretty much what Seth had expected, he's not surprised that Brock has conceded to being a cuddler, and he's grateful for that. He's tired, his body feels _used_, but it's not a bad feeling, and certainly not one he regrets. In the morning, walking might prove to be an unexpected hassle, but it'll be okay. It'll be better than okay, it'll be a reminder of this night. A night, barely a week ago, Seth hadn't even known he'd wanted; a night he's certain he wants to repeat.

"Brock?" It's a question, and the slightly sleepy sounding noise Brock makes has Seth biting his lip to keep from grinning. Brock Lesnar is not cute, he does not make cute little sleepy snuffles of noise, at least that's the general perception of him, and yet, Seth can state for a fact that he does. "G'night." Seth presses a kiss to the closest part of the gargantuan arms around him, and closes his eyes. Brock might be Heyman's _Beast_ in the ring, but right then, in that very moment, Seth has no doubts that Brock is very much _his_ Beast.

* * *

><p><em>Thank you to those who reviewed!<em>

**_AshJovillette, Syreina, dashinginconverse, ilovewwe27, Rora, lovergyul, _****_littleone1389, alizabethianrose, and ButcheredAngel._**

_All done with this one. I'm not going to make any promises on a sequel, but I guess if the storylines inspire it, there might be more, but for now this is it. _

**_Reviews are always good... So you know, leave one in the box! Thankssssss!_**

**_If you've time and the inclination please have a vote on the poll on my profile! I'd super appreciate it! _**


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